


picture perfect

by Splatx



Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Clothes Partially On", "Erotic Photography", Accidental Orgasm, Arthur Morgan Has Low Self-Esteem, Coming Untouched, Day 25, Erotic Photography, Handsome Cowboy, Implausible plot, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Kinktober2020, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot, No actual sex, Partially Nude Photography, Photography, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Replaced Prompt, Requited Crush, Semi-public masturbation, Voyeurism, Weird Plot, prompt 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: Kinktober 2020, #24: "Clothes Partially On" "Erotic Photography"the man was staring at him, wide eyed, pupils blown, hunched behind his camera and face flushed even darker than before and Arthur was almost concerned for his health. Albert jumped as though startled, nodded, “Y-yes, very!” and began to fumble with his camera, “P-please ke-keep it like…” he made a squeaking sound, waved his hand, and Arthur nodded, ducking his head, remembering the position Albert had worked him into, pumped his hand slowly—
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: Kinktober 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947451
Comments: 3
Kudos: 85
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	picture perfect

"Now, I ain't so sure about this…" 

Albert was decidedly flushed as he looked up from his camera, looking anywhere but Arthur's eyes when he said, "Mr. Morgan, I'm not going to make you do this if you don't want to." the _but…_ in his voice was obvious, and Arthur sighed, reached down to tug at the blanket thrown over his lap.

"These photos'll only be goin' to that man? He won't be showin' 'em to anyone else?"

God, he could just imagine what would happen if these pictures ended up in the hands of the Pinkertons… or worse, _the Gang._

  
  


"Of course, of course," Albert nodded, hands flailing, "I'll be developing the photos myself, and he understands the importance of discretion."

Even still, Arthur would have said no, but goddamn if it weren't a lot of money for a few minutes of pretty much no work.

So he waited for Albert to get his camera set up, heart going a mile a minute.

  
  


“Just… put this on,”

Albert had tried to get him to wear his usual shirt and duster, but he’d given him a very vehement no. Though it wouldn’t be in color of course, he’d been terrified that the pattern and wear and tear would give him away. So the photographer gave him a different duster - one that was uncomfortably new, though not _new,_ and a grey shirt a few sizes too small that clung to him like it were soaked through. He’d tried to button the duster, but Albert had stopped him.

He’d guided him to sit back against the headboard of the bed - the hotel room, he was sure, cost more than he’d have pass through his hands in a month - hunched over himself and he’d been more than relieved when he’d been guided to duck his head, a cowboy’s hat plopped over his dirty blond hair, reaching to tug the bandanna that Albert passed him around his face only for the man to stop him, pulling it down to crumple around his neck.

“I feel like a fool,” he grumbled, eyes flicking to the mirror, relieved that, despite the bandanna not obscuring his face, the way Albert had positioned him had the hat casting his face into shadow, obscuring his features. Though the shirt clung to his chest, revealing his muscles, and he wrinkled his nose - not much to see, he couldn’t understand why someone wanted to see _him._ But someone had seen that picture of him in the gallery and approached Albert offering more money than the man could immediately turn down, especially knowing Arthur needed money.

“Trust me, Mr. Morgan,” Albert’s eyes flicked to him then away, the tips of his ears flushing, “you don’t look like a fool at all.” he cleared his throat, “Now, please bring your pants down a little more.”

Those damn denim pants. Too tight in the legs, a bit too loose in the waist to make it easier to wiggle down and tug his penis free. Arthur wasn’t much of a modest man - he’d lived in camp for twenty years, after all, and privacy wasn’t much of a thing - but even still he blushed when Albert said “If you wouldn’t mind…” and made a flailing motion with his hand, going a funny shade of puce.

  
  


Without any sort of show, he tugged himself out of his pants, looking anywhere but Albert.

Not that he would be turned off by the man - the opposite, in fact. But that was exactly why he didn’t want to look at him. Albert was one of the few folk he’d consider friends outside of the gang, and he didn’t want to ruin it. Already, he was worried considering what he was about to do in front of Albert - he was generally willing to do _anything_ for money, though this was pushing it - and was fully intending on biting his tongue, terrified of what he might say.

God, but he was already starting to get hard, the tip of his cock poking out of his foreskin, and Albert made a funny croaking sound when he saw it sticking out of his hand. He remembered Albert, looking like he wanted to die, looking like he _might_ with how red he’d gone, telling him exactly what the man wanted to see, and that he wouldn’t judge whatever Arthur did.

So he took a deep breath, and pumped his cock—

_Albert’s hazel eyes, peering up at him_

—pumped it again, felt himself growing quickly erect—

_Albert’s fingers, circling his rim_

—shit, he needed to fill himself, but didn’t dare do such a thing in front of someone else, especially not _Albert_ and besides, he didn’t want to take off the skin-tight denim pants just to put them back on again, didn’t think he _could_ take them off—

_Albert’s voice, shaky in his ear as he pushed into him_

—“s’good?” he grunted, curling over himself, turning his head to look at Albert and _oh_

the man was staring at him, wide eyed, pupils blown, hunched behind his camera and face flushed even darker than before and Arthur was almost concerned for his health. Albert jumped as though startled, nodded, “Y-yes, very!” and began to fumble with his camera, “P-please ke-keep it like…” he made a squeaking sound, waved his hand, and Arthur nodded, ducking his head, remembering the position Albert had worked him into, pumped his hand slowly—

_Albert’s cum filling him_

—dropped his hand to clench the base to keep from coming, panting and 

a bright light flashed, the pop of a camera, and his heart thudded in his ears, he heard Albert’s voice, saying something, the man stepped out from behind the camera and he had a moment to make out an obvious tent in the man’s pants—

_Albert’s voice, crying out his name_

—“Shit, Al!” he curled in on himself, cock throbbing, twitching as he splattered his shirt with rope after rope of cum.


End file.
